


TVB Fanfiction Meme 2016 Replies: Married in Vegas

by witchlips



Category: The Venture Bros
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Fluff, M/M, SUCH FLUFF, Vegas, vegas made em do it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-31
Packaged: 2019-03-11 16:04:44
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13527768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/witchlips/pseuds/witchlips
Summary: Written from the first request on the TVB Fanfiction Meme."Doc and Brock get married for some reason maybe in Las Vegas".





	1. Waking up in Vegas

**Author's Note:**

> This... started out as a drabble and then just kind of... evolved mercilessly and with no care how I felt about that. It's still technically a drabble as far as I'm concerned, but...  
> Anyway. I quite enjoyed the way it turned out even if it's kinda silly and a little outta character near the end, and I hope you do, too. *finger guns* I may add a second chapter with the boys reaction eventually. It has potential.

A sharp repetitive pain in his skull wrested Thaddeus S. Venture from the deepest most dreamless sleep he had ever had. It pulsed in time with his heart, which he had only just noticed was beating like he had tried to run a mile. How strange. He seemed to be sweating just as hard.

 

Rusty’s stomach lurched suddenly, and his eyes shot open in panic. The scientist practically launched himself out of the incredibly warm bed and into the hotel bathroom, banging his shoulder on the door frame in his frantic sprint. Rusty made it to the toilet by the skin of his teeth before his stomach completely rebelled.

 

Luckily, it was a rather quick process. Apparently Rusty had not eaten much the night before. The scientist sat back against the bathtub there on the cold tile floor for several minutes afterward and attempted to take stock of himself as he panted heavily.

 

He was completely naked. It was not totally unusual when he had more than a few drinks for Rusty to eschew clothing before bed, so he was not very surprised about that. There was a subtle ache in his lower half, but no body parts seemed to be missing. Both legs were bent in front of him, and two arms were attached to his torso and slung around the rim of the tub… Rusty wiggled his toes. They looked and felt like they were all there. He wiggled his fingers next, only to hear the clink of metal on ceramic.

 

There was an unfamiliar weight on the ring finger of his left hand that he had not noticed before. Rusty pulled his elbow back over the side of the tub with some effort and brought the offending finger before his face. He blinked blearily at it several times. Instead of the digit being replaced by a robotic appendage as he had been hoping, a dark grey metal band wrapped snugly around his finger.

 

“ _Tungsten_?” He whispered to no one as he squinted at the jewelry, trying to make the memory of getting it come forward. No such luck.

 

With a heavy sigh and more effort than he would ever admit to anyone, Rusty managed to stand up and stumble to the door of the bathroom. He paused just there, staring at his feet and trying to make the world stop spinning. Really, he was getting much too old for this kind of thing.

 

The scientist managed to get his bearings enough to look up only to give a startled yelp upon seeing the rather _large_ lump wrapped up in the blankets he had just left. The sound seemed to be enough to finally rouse whomever his bed mate was, as the blankets wriggled violently. Whoever it was seemed to be trapped.

 

A loud, low growl came from the lump, at which point Rusty was beginning to fear his bed mate might be _an actual goddamned tiger_ , before a huge knife jutted out of the top and in one swift movement cut through the nice hotel linens. Brock Samson in all his terrifying glory jolted up among the remains of fabric, panting heavily and looking around in murderous fury.

 

The Swede’s expression turned to confusion when his eyes finally fell on the absolutely shell-shocked Rusty Venture, standing in the bathroom doorway bare ass naked, “Uh… Doc?”

 

“How’d- What- What _happened_ last night?” Rusty managed to get out.

 

Brock scowled in confusion down at the ruined blankets around him. His gaze traveled up to the knife in his right hand and then to his left hand as if trying to determine whether or not it was actually real or not. It was then that Rusty noticed the blond’s ring, a perfect twin to the one on his own hand.

 

“Brock,” He whispered hoarsely, staring wide-eyed at the man’s massive hand, “Where did you get that ring?”

 

The bodyguard looked up from his hand warily and Rusty took his own left hand from where it was bracing him against the doorframe to show off his matching ring. Brock squinted for a moment and then, very slowly, his face seemed to lose all expression.

 

“Surely not…” he mumbled almost to himself, tearing his gaze away and looking frantically on the bedside tables and then around the rest of the room. All the muscles in his body seemed to go rigid at once when he caught sight of something on the desk shoved into the corner of the room, “Doc. Check that desk.”

 

Rusty glared at the man halfheartedly, but staggered over to the desk anyway only to find a sheet of paper that had not been there when they had left the hotel last night. He read the thing twice without actually processing the words at all. In an attempt to get it to actually make sense, the scientist read it slowly under his breath.

 

“Marriage certificate. This is to certify that the undersigned…” Rusty stopped reading, the words finally registering. His eyes darted down to the two very shaky signatures underneath the date to confirm and then he swung around, which was a mistake for multiple reasons, not least of which was the vertigo he had been experiencing since he had woken, “Oh, god. Don’t move quickly. Bad idea.”

 

“What does it _say_ , doc?” Brock grumbled from where he had finally managed to extricate himself from the ruined blankets and was stumbling out of the bed just as stark-ass naked as Rusty was.

 

“We have been married according to Clark County, Nevada,” Rusty told him tiredly, holding out the certificate. Brock snatched it from the smaller man’s hand. The scientist glared at him for a moment before it was broken by his communicator watch going off on the nightstand.

 

Marginally more steady on his feet now, Rusty managed to quickly get over to it and answer the call as he fell back on to the bed.

 

“How are _you_ doing, newly-weds?!” came the very loud voice of Pete White as he flickered on to the screen. Rusty grimaced, noticing just barely that Billy was behind White trying desperately to stifle laughter.

 

“How’d you-?” He started, only to be cut off by the laughter finally breaking past Billy’s best efforts.

 

“Ya called us for the ceremony, pally,” White grinned, “You told me, and I quote, ‘White, I need a maid of honor and I know you’re awake.’”

 

Rusty sputtered ineffectually for a moment. Brock, who had been moving without Rusty realizing, dropped his head down on the pillow beside him so that they were both within frame of the screen.

 

“What do you mean, ‘ _maid of honor’_?!” Rusty finally got out.

 

“Are you both naked?!” Billy interrupted. A flush unwillingly swept over Rusty’s face, and before he could sputter a response, White laughed.

 

“Of course they are. It’s the morning after their wedding night,” the albino grinned suggestively into the screen, “How was it?”

 

“I don’t have time for this,” Rusty glared back, now overly aware of what the ache in his lower body probably meant, “Is this the only reason you called?”

 

“Ah, nah. Actually…” White grimaced. The sound of computer keys clacking came from the otherside, “I’m sending you the link. It’s trending everywhere right now.  I’m real sorry, pal. Call us later once you’re dressed and have a chance to read that.”

 

The screen flashed to black. Not even a second later, the scientist's vPhone lit up to show a message. Rusty frowned, turning his head to look at Brock. The Swede shrugged, turned on to his side, and practically nestled his head against the smaller man’s as he grabbed the phone and Rusty’s glasses from the side table. Rusty felt the blush from earlier return even stronger than before, and tried to ignore the flutter in his stomach when Brock’s skin brushed up against his arms and chest as the blonde reached over him.

 

“What are you-?”

 

“Open the message, doc,” Brock rumbled sleepily almost against Rusty’s neck. He handed the phone over and clumsily placed the glasses on the scientist’s face, “I want to read it, then we’re both going back to sleep for a while, got it?”

 

“You’re just gonna… gonna sleep in here with me?” Rusty whispered back incredulously. His bodyguard shrugged again, though this time only with one shoulder.

 

“Sure. Do you care?” Brock asked, already reaching behind him to pull the tattered remains of the blankets over them both.

 

“…No. I guess not,” Rusty mumbled back, focusing on opening the message to keep his mind off how close the other man was laid beside him and how safe and right that felt. The message, a link as promised, pulled up an article on some tabloid media outlet he normally ignored. Titled in big bold letters at the top were the words ‘ _Child Star and VenTech Heir Marries Bodyguard in Vegas_ ’. Cursing angrily under his breath, Rusty scrolled down past an ad to read the article proper.

 

“Read it to me, doc,” Brock sighed, “The letters are too small for me to focus on right now.”

 

“Someone from a tabloid saw us after the convention last night and followed us around. It has like a paragraph dedicated to us getting, quote, ‘shitfaced’... I don’t even remember half of this. It could be completely made up and I wouldn’t know,” Rusty groaned, “Oh look. They have pictures… a whole slideshow! Just wonderful.”

 

Brock touched the thumbnail to pull up the slide show in question, and hummed at the first photo that showed the two of them at a bar, “I remember this part… I remember leaving this bar and going to,” He swept that photo away for the next taken at another bar, “This one. I don’t remember after that.”

 

“Let’s find out,” Rusty grumbled, swiping the photo away himself this time. There was one more bar and then a few casinos that the scientist most certainly did not remember before a photo of the two of them holding hands in a very gaudy chapel popped up. Rusty stared at the picture in disbelief, “Is the… is the officiator dressed like my _dad_ …?”

 

“...He is,” Brock answered sleepily.

 

“Why…? Why did…?” Rusty whispered softly to himself. He quickly exited out of the slideshow in order to return to the article and see if it had any explanation for such a bizarrely creepy choice in officiator costume. No such luck. Though they certainly commented on the weirdness, the author didn’t seem to have any idea why either. It ended with some details about how they had left and the writer had lost them in a cab.

 

Scowling, Rusty pulled the blanket Brock had thrown over them up to his thin shoulders and traded his phone for the communicator watch. A few swift movements and a couple moments later had Billy and Pete appearing on screen yet again.

 

“Why the hell was the officiator dressed like my father?” Rusty asked before White could get a word in. Both of the other scientists snickered, shooting one another a look and causing Rusty to glower in irritation until they could get themselves under control.

 

“I asked the same question last night,” Pete grinned, “Lucky, too, or I would be as confused as you.”

 

“Get on with it,” Brock grunted tiredly against Rusty’s shoulder. The older man looked over to see that his bodyguard’s eyes were completely shut.

 

“Eh, yeah, sorry, Brock,” White cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing Rusty’s attention back to the little screen of his communicator watch, “You informed me he told you you couldn’t be gay when you were a kid, so you were gonna make him marry you to the, er… your words not mine, ‘the giant incredibly manly man’ you have been in love with ‘for twenty years’, or something like that.”

 

Rusty glanced over at Brock, who thankfully seemed to have passed out at some point during Pete's explanation if his deep rhythmic breaths meant anything, and let out a sigh of relief. He looked back at the watch and frowned up at the screen.

 

“Did I say that in front of him?”  Rusty asked, using his eyes to indicate the giant blond man sleeping beside him.

 

“Pffft, and more. You _married_ him, for god sake, Rusty,” Billy snarked.

 

Instead of answering, Rusty groaned and shut off his watch, carelessly throwing it in the general direction of the bedside table. A thick warm arm wrapped around his middle, turning him on to his side so that he was spooned up against the mass of warmth that was Brock before he could blink.

 

“Twenty years, huh?” The man whispered into the scientist’s ear in a low sleep-husky voice. The other arm worked its way underneath Rusty’s torso, and pressed against his scrawny chest comfortably.

 

“I thought you were asleep,” Rusty hissed back in alarm. His face felt so hot he was sure Brock could feel it too, “You weren’t… weren’t supposed to hear that.”

 

“I’m glad I did, Rus,” Brock told him. Chapped lips pressed gently, unmistakably, against slightly stubbled skin of Rusty’s scalp and the scientist’s heart was suddenly beating just as hard as it had been when he had woken up just over half an hour ago, “Go to sleep… We don’t have long before the boys see that article and call to yell at us.”


	2. The Boys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I mean, they've really been married forever and just not realized.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a little outta character-ness in this one too, but. *shrug* this chapter was more for my own entertainment than anything else. It's fun~~~ woo~~~

It was only a few hours later that Rusty was blinking himself awake again to the sound of his watch going off somewhere on the floor of the hotel room. Massive calloused hands ran down his bony side and thin chest clumsily for a couple of seconds, then Brock’s gruff voice puffed over the back of his head and across his ear.

 

“If you don’t go answer that damned thing right now,” He growled tiredly, gently squeezing the scientist’s sharp hip, “I’m gonna answer it, and I’ll probably make Dean cry.”

 

Rusty sighed and rolled his eyes. Grudgingly, he slid the top half of his body from his new husband’s snug embrace to grab his glasses and fumble around on the floor for the communicator watch. It had bounced off the wall and had gone almost underneath the side table, so it took a bit of work, but the few more hours of sleep had made his world stable enough to achieve the task without having to get up completely. The scientist answered the call on its last ring as he pressed himself back up against Brock’s warm torso and those solid arms wrapped around his middle again.

 

“I cannot _believe_ you two did this!” Dean practically yelled immediately upon seeing Rusty’s face. He had obviously been seething for a while at this point, “Getting married in _Vegas_ of all places! I’m so _mad_ at you!”

 

Rusty sighed heavily, fully expecting his sons’ disapproval for marrying another man. Prepared minimally to deal with disgust and outrage over it, but expectant all the same.

 

“Look, sweetie, I know it’s a bit of a shock, but _Daddy_ didn’t even know he liked men much less-”

 

“What?! _No_! I don’t care about that! You and Brock have basically been married my whole life!” Dean wrinkled his nose in irritation and pursed his lips in a way that reminded Rusty of himself to a disconcerting level, “I’m mad because you got married in _Vegas_! Without anyone else! Not even Hank and I!”

 

“...What?” Rusty scowled, “You don’t care that I’m…?”

 

“ _Gay_ , Daddy,” Dean sighed, looking up at the ceiling as if he could not believe he was actually having this conversation, “You’re probably _gay_. And no. I don’t care. It’s the twenty-first century. I like guys sometimes, too. No one cares. God, you have got to start talking to people that weren’t alive the 60’s and friend’s with Grandpa Venture.”

 

“My turn, Deano!” Came Hank’s voice from somewhere off screen. There was a brief kerfuffle as the two of them fought over control of Dean’s arm, before they finally compromised on shoving their heads together to fit in range of the camera. Hank, looking very solemn for Hank, gave a little sigh, “I, for one, am _completely_ embarrassed- Wait… Is that Brock? Are you guys in bed?!”

 

Brock shuffled down so that he was in frame as well and rearranged his hold on Rusty so that he was very obviously hugging the smaller man against his bare chest. Rusty could feel the heat of a blush work it’s way over his face at the unexpected display. Both boys looked at eachother and scrunched their noses identically in delight over the situation for some reason Rusty could not even begin to fathom.

 

“Hey, Hank,” Brock yawned irritatingly close to the scientist’s ear. Rusty shot him a glare, but Brock ignored it as usual, “Hey, Dean.”

 

“Oh! Does this mean I get to call you Dad now?!” Hank grinned, leaning closer and blocking out his twin for a moment. Dean huffed behind him and pulled the excited blond back with a perturbed glare of his own.

 

“I thought you said you were _embarrassed_ of us,” Rusty snarked back before Brock could answer the enthusiastic question.

 

Hank scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Not of Brock. I’m embarrassed of _you_ , Pop.”

 

“Me?! _Just_ me?!” Rusty felt absolutely outraged that Hank would extend his favoritism this far. He blinked furiously at the solemn nod of his oldest son, “Brock married _me_ , too, you know!”

 

“Are you _still_ on about that…?” Dean sighed. The twins exchanged an exhausted glance that, quite frankly, made Rusty bristle even more than before. A gentle squeeze from the thick arms holding him against Brock’s broad chest forced him to take a deep breath before he could say something defensive.

 

“I’m not embarrassed of Brock, because _he_ wasn’t the one that made the guy who married you dress up like _Grandpa_ ,” Hank explained lazily, “That was _super_ weird, Pop, and I have seen some really _really_ weird things in my life.”

 

Brock chuckled, jiggling Rusty a little as the deep sound resonated through his chest. The scientist felt like his face was actually on fire he was blushing so hard. Despite the death glare he tried to turn on every single one of his family members, they all started laughing at Hank's not entirely false accusation.

 

“Shut _up_ , you three,” Rusty hissed ineffectually and jabbed at Brock with his bony elbow, “I was blackout drunk, okay?”

 

Dean cleared his throat and sobered a bit, giving both his fathers a serious look, “Which is another reason.”

 

“Another reason that what?” Rusty huffed irritably.

 

“That when you both get home we're going to have a _proper_ wedding,” Dean told them. He raised both eyebrows in a look that was probably supposed to be intimidating but came off rather hopeful instead.

 

“Yeah!” Hank put in as he wrapped a brotherly arm around his twin’s slight shoulders, “And this time Deano and I are gonna be the Best Men!”

 

“Don't you think your father and I should choose those for ourselves?” Brock drawled lazily.

 

“No offense, Brock,” Dean grimaced, “But you two already did this your way and it was… awful. Hank and I will take care of everything. You two just show up, okay?”

 

“You guys owe us for doing it the first time without us,” Hank huffed childishly, “This was important, you know. Eloping was really hurtful. You have both emotionally scarred us forever.”

 

“It's true,” Dean nodded sagely. He seemed to debate with himself for a moment before he bit his lip nervously and looked away from the camera, “We… care about you both, you know.”

 

Rusty looked over his shoulder and met Brock’s blue eyes steadily. The understanding that doing this would mean something for the four of them as a family passed between them nonverbally. Those steady arms gently squeezed the scientist again in acceptance, and Rusty sighed as he turned back to the forlorn expressions his sons had adopted.  

 

“Okay… Alright, fine. But the guest list cannot be over thirty, got it?” He told his sons, shivering slightly with the thought of more than that.

 

Dean huffed a whiny, “ _Fiiiine_ ,” and Hank pumped his fist in victory.

 

“Alright, boys, we need to go,” Brock broke into their exclamations, “Your dad and I don't want to see your faces again until we land in New York, got it?”

 

Hank wrinkled his nose in disgust, “Are you two going to be naked the whole time? Is that why?”

 

“Probably,” Brock drawled at the blond twin with a distinctly smug tone to his voice, “We don't remember our wedding night, so…”

 

“Ugh! _Gross_!” Dean squealed, wrinkling his nose up as well, “Nobody wants to hear about their parents doing it. God!”

 

Rusty knew his face was as red as his beard again. His mouth opened and shut ineffectually a couple times as Brock full out laughed and hugged him tighter.

 

“Good… goodbye, boys,” Rusty managed to get out around his mortification.

 

“Goodbye, dads,” the twins replied in unison before the screen abruptly went black. Rusty placed the communicator watch gently on the bedside table this time before he turned over in Brock’s arms so that they were chest-to-chest.

 

“They called me dad...” Brock mumbled almost to himself. There was a touch of awe in his voice, as if he had doubted it would be so easy for such a thing to occur. The smaller man snorted; half amused, half disbelief.

 

“Of _course_ they did,” He told the larger man. One of Rusty’s hands snuck out from the warmth of their ripped blankets and the scientist casually ran his long fingers through the messy blond curls of Brock’s mullet. His hair was softer than Rusty had imagined, “You raised them better than I did most days…”

 

“You were… going through stuff,” Brock mumbled in reply, his eyes shutting slowly as his husband continued to stroke through the hair at the nape of his neck.

 

“Yeah, for nigh on two _decades_ ,” Rusty scoffed. He removed his fingers from the soft hair and snuggled closer into Brock’s chest, “The point is that they love you. Of course they’re going to call you dad.”

 

One of those big calloused hands grabbed at Rusty’s chin, accidentally smashing his goatee against his skin as it lifted the smaller man’s head. Brock was scowling down at him, mouth set in a firm line. The expression put Rusty a little off balance, wondering what he could have possibly done to earn it.

 

“Look, Doc,” Brock asserted, his voice a little ragged, “You can’t just touch my hair like that and then expect to roll over and go back to sleep.”

 

“You actually wanna-? With _me_?” Rusty practically squeaked, his eyes wide behind the lenses of his glasses.

 

Brock, ever a man of few words, rolled his eyes and proceeded to put the quip he had used at the end of the video call into action. _Honestly_. He did marry the man, too.


End file.
